IronFist
by 19barberl
Summary: Introduction to a new superhero. This is only the first chapter.


**IronFist**

CHAPTER 1

Matthew Arbor had always wanted to be like his father, strong, fearless in battle, and a true leader. He had always wanted to be the one commanding royal troops and leading mighty battles into victory. Now, here he stood, a warlord, a leader over thousands of loyal soldiers ready for command but still he felt a twinge of sadness. Matt knew that in a matter of minutes, a massive army over four times the number of his would appear over the horizon. He pushed away the feeling inside him and whirled around. His eyes found what they were looking for, a slender looking man in his forties, who stunk of old ale. He was the immediate captain of the guard, but if anything happened to him, there was a backup in place. Apparently, something had happened to him. He was leaning drunkenly against a table, babbling insolently. Matt's eyes shifted to another point in the room where the backup stood. He was standing erect, eyes shifting nervously around the room, looking to avoid any trouble that drunken men in a tavern could cause.

"Get the troops ready for battle, they could be here any minute" Matt barked. The captain began a weary nod then froze, his face tense with shock. He muttered something inaudible. Matt turned to face where his second in command was staring and almost fainted himself. The horizon was blackened with an enormous mass of soldiers about three miles away. Matt had received a notification from spies that the army was attacking his main camp. The brunt of his troops had been assembled there, due to the warning.

The main camp consisted of a rectangular shack in the center, with the barracks on the left wing, and the dining area on the right. The troops had assembled in a half-moon covering the front of the camp. Since they had been called on a last-minute notice, there was no widely known military plan. Every troop was equipped with a spear, sword, or iron axe.

Matt reached for his weapon, a massive double-edged battle axe. The edges had been sharpened thoroughly, then layered in a hardened gold. As impressive as it looked, it served just as well in battle as it did in a display case.

As a warlord, Matt's steed was the strongest, the sleekest, and the fastest. It was jet black, and well-muscled. He climbed on and almost immediately remembered his armor. It was basic armor with the usual iron helmet and uncomfortable breastplate. He lept down from his horse and grabbed his armor, hastily throwing it on.

The black line on the horizon had thickened. Matt jumped onto his steed and galloped to the front of his army. They were ready to fight the army of one Matt had grown to despise. His father.

Every troop was still, gaping at the massive army that had appeared over the horizon. Matt noticed a single white spot among the black mass of soldiers and immediately recognized it as his father and his pure white steed. As the army drew further in, Matt started to notice the perfect balance which with they held their swords and the disciplined jog they had held now for over an hour. They were professionals, he knew, and it would take a major struggle for any army of that size and professionalism to dwindle. Their armor was that of the royal guard, white with gold trim and very hard to pierce.

Towards the front of their army, there was a line of shield men with spearmen supporting them in the back. Four lines of swordsmen flanked the army, leaving 150 archers leading the swordsmen. Overall, there was over 3,000 well trained troops ready to decimate Matt's meager army of 700.

Matt tore his eyes off of his father and thought of a plan of action. Usually, the defense would have every advantage, with familiar terrain, strong walls, and a moat, but this camp was hardly capable of providing the support of a standard fort. For that reason, Matt rushed his decision and decided to go on the offensive.

"Weapons ready!" he bellowed.

"Chaaaarrrrrrge!" Matt continued. The soft hiss of soldiers raising their swords from their scabbards could be heard from miles away. The soldiers took off, galloping at full speed towards the opposing army. There was no discipline or organization as soldiers galloped forward, focused on reaching my fathers army, the kings army.

As they advanced, Matt's army sifted out. The higher ranking officers with the swifter steeds led the army, while the basic infantry troops were pushing their ugly, out of shape horses their hardest, which was only about the speed of a standard horse cantering. Matt slowed his horse down and let his troops ahead of him, then picked up a gallop as he started to near the rear.

From there, the battle went downhill. It began with what seemed like a black cloud. It slammed into Matt's soldiers felling over two hundred of them. Before his troops could react, another cloud headed their way. As Matt got closer, he noticed the arrows protruding from the fallen soldiers. A dark liquid oozed from them.

"Archers!"he whispered as the next cloud hit, finishing off at least another two hundred of his men. Only 300 spearmen were left unharmed, another ten injured. Matt screamed in rage. There was no way his army would be defeated this easily. He charged forward, shield held in front of him, his eyes burning with fury. He heard the solid "thunk!" of arrows burying themselves deep into his shield.

As he reached the front line of the army, he lowered his shield and raised his axe, swinging it in a wide arc. Six men were cut down without a sound, another five sprinting to replace them. Thousands more troops were ready to kill him, and six was hardly a victory. He glanced backward and quickly counted only about a hundred of his own spearmen left. He winced as five of them were cut down.

He was ready to take down another five when his horse crumpled beneath him. He stumbled to the ground and found himself surrounded by several swordsmen. His horse lay at his side, a deep gash in its stomach. The swordsmen were too close for Matt to use his axe. He let it clatter to the ground, slowly rising to his feet. He clenched his hands into fists lept forward, throwing his chain mail fist towards the closest soldier. He crumpled to the ground. Matt started to turn when he felt a blunt pain in his skull as the flat of a blade thwacked his forehead with a dull smack. Everything went black.

*end of chapter one*


End file.
